


Why?

by Orithain, Rina9294



Series: Reactionary POVs [4]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-18
Updated: 2015-11-18
Packaged: 2018-05-02 04:47:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5234690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orithain/pseuds/Orithain, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rina9294/pseuds/Rina9294
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodney has a question, and John wonders.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rodney: Why?

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted August 2005.

Such a small word to lodge in my throat like this, making it hard to speak, swallow, or even breathe. It isn’t there all the time, or even the majority of it, but when it comes, it swells with logarithmic proportions until it taints everything.

He could have anyone - not that I’d ever mention that fact to him as it would swell an already entirely too big ego to indescribable levels - but he chose me. Not that I’m anything but a prize catch, but still...

It’s easy to forget the word when he’s on me, in me, focused solely on me. The golden flecks in his hazel eyes brighten then, and the dark wings of his brows swoop and dip as he concentrates on prolonging the moment, the small circle of peace we’ve found together.

It’s just as easy to lose the word when I’m in him and he’s straining upward, sweat sheening the tense muscles of his chest as he twists, searching for that moment of perfection. His eyes are half-closed then, and his hands knead at my arms as soft whispers of pleasure spill past his lips, though none of them are the answer I seek.

It’s not there during the frantic, everyday life here, the mad rush to catalog technology, find new power sources and new trading partners, and it vanishes utterly when he glances at me during a briefing and smirks in such a way that I know what he’s wishing we were doing.

Most of the time the word is small, unobtrusive, but every so often, late at night, if I happen to be alone, it grows, three tiny letters that carry the weight of a collapsing star, drawing all of me toward the oblivion of a life without him.

I want to ask, but at the same time I don’t want to know, and that more than anything tells me how screwed I am. I mean, when have I not wanted to know the answer to every question possible?

I won’t ask; I can’t. I’ll take what I have and push the question away when it rises: swallowing it won’t kill me but the answer might.

Cowardly, yes, better than the alternative, the needy ‘why me’ that I’ll keep swallowing, ignoring the seeds it plants deep within me in favor of concentrating on what’s in front of me, beside me, _with_ me.

With _me_.


	2. John: Why Me?

I really don’t get it. I mean, I know what I look like; I’m not an idiot, and of course I use it. But that’s not what draws someone like him, at least not more than once. It helps that I’m not some dumb trained ape or whatever it is that he likes to call us soldiers, but really, compared to him, we’re close.

So why me?

Sometimes when we’re sitting in a briefing, I’ll look over at him, and I’ll remember the night before, or even a few minutes before when I might have dragged him into the Atlantean version of a supply closet, and I know I start to grin. It’s knowing that the smartest—and one of the hottest—man in two galaxies spends most nights in _my_ bed.

He brings that same focus to everything he does, whether it’s saving us all from death or making me scream with pleasure. I’m really glad that the rooms are sound-proof.

But the reality is that despite his attitude, which I think is more self defense than anything else—and I’d really like to know who made Rodney think that he needs to attack first to keep from being hurt—if he showed an interest in almost anyone, they’d jump him in a heartbeat. So why does he want me?

But he does, and I’m not going to make him question it. Mensa-level here. I’ve got him and I’m keeping him, no matter why he picked me. Because I get to do this.

"Hey, Rodney?"


End file.
